


The Sex Towels

by Anarion



Series: One-Shots [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, Erections, Humor, M/M, Sex Towels, Sex on the horizon, Sexual Tension, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarion/pseuds/Anarion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for <a href="http://shkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6858.html?thread=15583946#t15583946">this</a> kink meme prompt by Random_Nexus. <b>John gets tired of changing the sheets AND washing them so often, so he institutes The Sex Towels. Once Sherlock gets used to the silly practice of the (maybe brightly colored or somehow distinctive for JUST THIS USE) towels, he then starts realizing that SEEING the towels starts getting him horny, because now he associates them with the really good sex he's been getting ON them.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sex Towels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Random_Nexus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/gifts).



Sherlock stares at the innocent piece of cloth with a certain amount of wrath. And a throbbing erection.

 

***

_Sherlock was not a cuddly sleeper. He needed his space to toss and turn and he hated being restricted by arms around him or a weight on his body. John respected that. His body sometimes forgot and shifted closer but Sherlock never failed to remind him by moving away or sometimes even kicking him in his sleep._

_Like a few seconds ago. John sighed sleepily and rolled over – directly onto the spot where he had come extensively a while ago, after Sherlock had teased him with his tongue for what seemed like hours before finally sliding in and fucking him into oblivion. Said spot therefore held sweet memories. And was still wet._

_If John hated anything, it was lying in a not-yet-dried spot of come. Everything else he was fine with, the lingering smell of their lovemaking was nothing compared to the things his sleeping place had sometimes reeked of in the war._

_Sherlock loved clean bed linen. He hated the smell of sweat or sex on them, so he pestered John every few days to change the sheets. “John. The bed smells. Do something.”_

_John rolled his eyes and moved back from the damp spot, hoping that Sherlock would refrain from kicking him for the rest of the night._

_This needed to end._

***

He stares at them hanging over the drying rack in the middle of the living room. Why is the thing in the middle of the living room? John usually puts it up in Sherlock’s bedroom, because they hardly use it anyway.

But there it is, the towels softly moving in the afternoon breeze, distracting and teasing, reminding him off John’s hands, his tongue, his cock – _oh God_. 

He is not going to wank in the middle of their living room to the sight of two hideous towels.

He grabs the rack and carries it into his room, slamming the door shut as if he is entrapping a dangerous animal.

What did just happen? Did I get an erection just like Pavlov's dogs start drooling [ _Oh, the way John drools when he takes me into his mouth!_ ] as soon as they hear the bell just by looking at the towels? _The towels John spread on the bed a few nights ago before..._ Stop it! No time to think about sex now, there’s a case to solve.

He shakes his head to clear it and focuses back on the case. Ten minutes later he is engrossed in blood samples, the towels and his erection forgotten.

 

***

 

_“John, why have we got these hideous bright coloured towels in the bedroom?”_

_“Because I’m done doing the laundry every few days just because you are a horny bastard and bring all this sticky stuff into bed.“_

_“We’re going to sleep on towels now?”_

_“No, idiot. We are going to put towels on the bed before we have sex.”_

_“That will really be a turn on...”_

***

Three days later the case is solved and Sherlock returns from giving a statement at the Yard.

When he enters the living room, he stops dead in his tracks. The towels are back. This time hanging over the backrest of John’s chair. This is torture. John clearly has no idea what he is doing to him with this careless display of the towels.

It has been a while since the last time, Sherlock has been busy with the case and now John _isn’t even here_.

 

***

_The first time John stopped their frantic kissing-and-at-the-same-time-walking-straight-into-the-bed to get the towels out, Sherlock huffed._

_The second time, when John actually got up to get them because Sherlock had come to bed to start things hours after John had fallen asleep (not that he was complaining), Sherlock scoffed._

_“Really John? I feel like an incontinent old man who is put to bed.”_

_The third time Sherlock came into the bedroom and the towels were already on the bed. As was John. Naked except for some caramel syrup and whipped cream._

_After that Sherlock didn’t even notice the towels any more._

_Unless they were harassing him in the living room._

***

Sherlock wonders what he should do. He is even more turned on than the first time, but still not desperate enough to toss off in the living room.

He could lie down on their bed, it would still smell of John, or he could call John and plead him to come home...

At the moment he feels more like grabbing the towel and rutting against it on the living room floor until he spills all his pent-up frustration and lust into it. He cups the bulge in his trousers and rubs gently.

“Oh no, you don’t”

The voice from the kitchen actually makes him jump. And almost squash his cock when his hand compresses in reflex.

“John?”

“I’ve been sitting in the kitchen, waiting for you to come home, so the only thing you’re going to do with this” – he gently squeezes Sherlock’s erection, which almost causes Sherlock to go to his knees – “is rogering me into next week. I’ve been respecting the ‘No sex during cases’ rule, with a tiny exception a few days ago, but it didn’t work as I hoped it would and I am _very_ close to desperate right now.”

Sherlock glances at the towels.

“You did this on purpose. But you couldn’t have known. Unless... You too?”

“The towels? Oh yes. Every time I pull them out of the washing machine I want to bend you over it. I was hoping you’d feel the same but when nothing happened the last time...”

“It took a lot to not rub myself against the rack...”

“Oh. Ok. Stop this...” Sherlock was rutting shamelessly against John’s hip without even noticing, “...grab the towels and take me to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the monthly longer story that I have to post according to the rules for the '365 days of 221Bs challenge'!  
> Thanks to Random_Nexus and her post on tumblr that inspired my muse because otherwise I would have failed to acomplish the task this month... *smooches Random* 
> 
> Not beta'd, sorry for any mistakes. Please tell me about them!
> 
> And I ended in a b-word **again**. *is hopeless*

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Two Sketches](https://archiveofourown.org/works/472851) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)




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